Sin & Suffer (Pure Corruption MC #2)(7)

Because I’m not ashamed of wearing my scars or from finding strength in them.

Yanking a few squares of toilet paper free from the holder, I dried my face and threw the wadded tissue in his direction. “Curious or just trying to figure out how I survived you?”

He ducked my missile, green eyes darkening. “Neither. Just making conversation.”

I snorted. “Everything you say is loaded with ulterior motives, never just conversation. Always has been.” My mind skipped back to snide comments over the years as I grew up in his shadow.

“You really shouldn’t draw that way. It’s not very good.”

“Your father sure doesn’t care about your welfare if he lets you walk around wearing that.”

“Jesus, Cleo, could your voice be any higher and annoying?”

Most of them had been said in jest, with a cheek-pinch or a licorice allsorts being given, but the desired effect never failed.

His words were the only way he could hurt me back then.

Now he could hurt me any damn way he wanted.

My father was dead. The men loyal to him most likely dead, too, or joined with Rubix under fear of torture.

I was alone.

My heart panged for Arthur. I didn’t care that I had no one to rely on—I’d spent most of my life that way—but now that I’d found Arthur again, those feelings of togetherness only amplified the echoing emptiness of loneliness.

“You’re right. I never quite grasped the art of straight shooting.” Rubix grinned. “Always preferred to deal my true thoughts in thinly veiled bullshit.” His nostrils flared, his eyes taking yet more liberties of my scantily dressed figure. “How about I forgo the veils and just tell you point-blank, hey?”

My skin crawled. “Fine.”

Tilting his head, he said, “I think you’re a stuck-up f*cking princess who was raised by a redneck and pampered by a whore. You warped my son’s mind and used your * to divide my family.”

In a flash, he pounced. Shoving me against the vanity, he wrapped fingers around my throat, the cold porcelain dug into my lower back. “How’s that for the f*cking truth?”

Tears sprang to my eyes as he squeezed my neck. My hands shot up to cover his, clawing at his hold. “Not … truth …,” I gasped, hating the way my larynx squeaked from being crushed. “Insanity.”

He choked me harder.

Our faces were so close, his nose brushed mine. It was as if he tried to wring me dry—waiting to see what lies and secrets spewed forth.

My eyes bugged, the pressure of not being able to breathe pounding in my head.

Then … he let me go.

I collapsed at his feet, sucking in air with loud inhales.

His large boots stayed glued to the floor as I panted and coughed and slowly dragged enough oxygen into my bloodstream to halt the screech of death.

Keeping my head down, I muttered brokenly, “What you believe … it’s not the truth—just lies you fed yourself over and over.” Rubbing at the blazing pain in my throat, I wheezed, “I loved you. You scared me and I always felt as if I disappointed you, but you were the father of the boy I loved. I wanted your blessing. I wanted to be a part of your family as much as mine.” Every word bruised my larynx but if I could somehow get him to believe me … perhaps I stood a chance at getting free without more pain.

A few endless seconds ticked past.

With each one, I tried not to let my hope run out of control.

I stood on shaky legs, praying that he would see sense.

But just like every time, he believed lies over truth.

Rubix’s face shaded with hate and disdain. Disdain that I’d somehow stripped him of his righteous anger by fighting him not with loathing but with love.

A love he didn’t deserve.

A love that finally died completely inside me.

He was no longer my uncle. No longer a father figure from my childhood. He was a monster and deserved to die.

His arm came up.

I twisted to avoid him, but he was faster.

His fingers wrapped in my hair, yanking me close. “Enough of these games.” His eyes flickered to my lips. “Are you ready?”

My heartbeat exploded. “Ready for what?”

Rubix smirked. “Ready for your penance, of course.”

His hair was longer, tied up with twine at the base of his skull. His leather jacket had streaks of rusty red from blood of his countless victims. It was strange to think as a child I looked up to him. I believed he would be there to protect me always … now I knew better. I was no longer blinded by young na?veté.

Every inch of me wanted to spit in his face. “I have nothing to repent for.”

Rubix chuckled. “Always were argumentative, even as a little girl.”

“Stop it!” Having him talk about our shared past infuriated me. I didn’t want to fight memories of happiness when I wanted to embrace the coldheartedness of murder. I was done with this production.

I snarled, “You’ve lost the right to talk to me. You’re dead to me, and soon you’ll be nothing more than a rotting corpse.”

For the first time in my life, I surprised the ruthless biker.

His fingers loosened in my hair, a sharp inhale on his lips.

My eyes darted behind him, down the dingy corridor to the small slice of sunlight bouncing into the lounge. If I could get past him, I could sprint to the boundary and escape.